


Off and On Again

by felisblanco



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, fic 2011
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-01
Updated: 2011-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-21 07:08:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felisblanco/pseuds/felisblanco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of two friends and the downs and ups of their epic (b)romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off and On Again

**Author's Note:**

> It’s Jensen’s birthday and I thought he would like some schmangts. Unbeta’d and all that.

The moment Jared meets Jensen it’s like something shifts in his life. Shifts and slides and slips into place. He can’t explain it but somehow he knows, just _knows_ , that they are going to be the best of friends. All the things he’ll later love to tell the press, everything that makes them fit, it’s all there, right from the beginning: their practically identical backgrounds and origins, interests that couldn’t be more similar if they’d grown up as the brothers they are portraying… Well, how can they not become best buds?

  


And they do. For two years it’s pretty much just the two of them, living in each other’s pockets, breathing each other’s air. From early morning to sundown they’re joined at the hip, never more than a few hours away from each other.

Jensen crashes on Jared’s couch when he’s too tired to go home. Jared stashes Jensen’s trailer full of candy so he always has something right at hand, whenever he gets a craving. Jared charms Jensen’s parents until they practically adopt him. Jensen becomes Sadie and Harley’s favorite uncle.

Jensen thinks Sandy is cute and cool and Jared thinks Jensen’s girlfriends are kinda slutty. Which they are, Jensen drunkenly admits and tells Jared he’s just waiting for “…the right one, Jay. One day, man. One day.” Jared slings an arm around Jensen’s shoulders and gives him a squeeze while nodding enthusiastically. They’re both too drunk to notice he forgets to pull back once the moment’s passed.

Even during hiatus they can’t stay away from each other for long. They send each other text messages and leave drunken voicemails. Email YouTube links to goats on roller skates and show up unexpectedly with a six-pack and grins that would get away with anything.

Sandy rolls her eyes and calls them the two Stooges.

“I thought we were the Hardy boys,” Jared says with a frown and Jensen falls into a fit of giggles, snorting “Hardy” and coughing sweet smoke out of his nose as Jared steals his joint.

Jared passes out at three in the morning with Jensen drooling on his thigh and a faint memory of Sandy kissing him goodnight, her hand lingering on top of Jensen’s head before ruffling his hair with an odd – almost sad – smile of affection.

  


The summer after season two ends they’re both so busy weeks go by without contact. Jared doesn’t sweat it. He has Sandy and his dogs and time flies faster than ever before.

When he lands in Vancouver he doesn’t even call Jensen for two days and when he finally does pick up his phone Jensen answers out of breath and trying to shush the giggles of a couple of girls in the background.

“You’re here,” he says and then, “Eight o’clock tomorrow morning, right?”

“Yeah,” Jared says and hangs up. He’s annoyed and he doesn’t even know why.

When the car picks him up the next morning he greets Jensen with a slap on the shoulder and a tired smile. Jensen grunts his reply, sips his coffee and before they know it they’re on set, settling back into things like always.

Except they aren’t.

Jared doesn’t even notice it at first, he’s too wrapped up in this new development of Sam, trying to get into the mindset of a man on the brink of desperation. They work, like always, share a car and an occasional drink but the times spent in each other’s company for the fun of it are fewer and further between. Suddenly it’s been three weeks since they went out for a drink, two since Jared called Jensen and asked him over to watch a game. Jensen’s deadpan humor starts to irritate him, because seriously, it’s not all that funny and sometimes it’s just downright mean. And Jared’s attempts at lightening things up at set are more often met with a frown of annoyance than the soft smile of quiet amusement.

Jared imagines this must be what happens to married couples after a while. They get so used to each other they turn… well, boring. The things that made the other endearing are just things now, ordinary and sometimes annoying.

As it is, when the writers go on strike, he feels almost relieved. He just needs to get away, to get some fresh air. Once they’ve given each other some space things are bound to get back to normal. They say goodbye without so much as a promise of keeping in touch and Jared watches Jensen board his plane, the warmth of Jensen’s handshake – handshake for Christ’s sake! – still lingering on his palm.

“You’re breaking up,” Sandy says shocked when he mentions it offhandedly, as if it doesn’t matter at all.

“You make it sound like we’re a couple,” he says annoyed. “We’re just friends. Co-stars.”

She stares at him like he’s insane. “Jared, you and Jensen… You’re not just friends. What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know,” he answers and suddenly he feels overwhelmingly sad because she’s right, they weren’t just friends. They were _best_ friends. They had the kind of friendship that some people long for all their lives. And now… Now they don’t. “I just don’t know.”

That night he calls Jensen but it goes to voicemail and he doesn’t really know what he wants to say anyway so he hangs up without a word. He doesn’t call again and Jensen never calls back.

“What if the strike doesn’t end and they cancel the show?” Sandy asks two weeks later. She’s in LA, auditioning for something they both know she won’t get.

“What if the strike doesn’t end and they cancel the show?” Jared asks back and it takes him a moment to realize they’re saying the complete opposite thing.

What if this is it and you don’t mend it, she means. What if I _do_ mend it and then this is it, is what he means. What if we go back to what we were, only to break apart? This time for good.

And that’s when he realizes he doesn’t want it to end. He doesn’t want _them_ to end. He wants his show back and him and Jensen back. He wants his best friend to be his goddamn best friend again. He let something valuable slip away from him and he doesn’t know how it happened. _Why_ it happened.

He doesn’t call Jensen. Instead he borrows his dad’s truck and drives to Richardson.

He shows up on Jensen’s parents’ doorstep, sweaty and hot, and feeling so unsure he almost turns back.

Jensen’s mother opens the door, not seeming surprised in the least to see him. She lets him in with a smile and tells him to walk right through, Jensen’s out on the back porch, firing up the grill. Jared can smell it weaving through the house, smoke and charcoal, and blood sizzling away to leave a perfect slap of meat.

Jensen looks up when Jared steps out on the porch. His hair is bleached from the sun, the freckles have multiplied in the weeks they’ve been apart and his eyes have a guarded look that Jared suddenly realizes has been there for the last six months.

“Hey,” he says and licks his lips nervously. “Smells good.”

“Tastes even better. You hungry?” Jensen asks, as if Jared just popped over from across the street and didn’t drive three hours to see him.

Jared nods, a corner of his mouth tugging up into a smirk. “Always.”

Jensen smiles and just like that it feels like that first day with Jensen’s green eyes crinkling happily at the corners as he gazes as Jared with a smile that says, ‘Man, you’re such a dork.’

Jensen hands Jared a beer and for a while they stand there in the kind of comfortable silence they haven’t shared since last spring, sipping beer and flipping the steaks on the grill.

“Are we back?” Jensen suddenly says without looking up, all casual like it’s nothing and not everything. “You and me?”

Jared swallows. There’s a lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “Yeah, we are.”

“Good.” Jensen nods slowly, as if to himself. “That’s good.”

  


They eat in the dining room, table set with candles and a vase with roses that look like they’d been hastily cut off the rosebushes out front. It feels a little like when Jared was dating Susan Brandon back in high school and he did the whole meet-the-parents thing. Which is stupid because it’s not like that and besides he’s been over here before. Their first summer hiatus, he drove over three times and Jensen was over to his folks’ place at least as often. Of course that was over eighteen months ago.

Jensen’s mama keeps saying please have some more and would he like another beer and how about dessert? All the while smiling like she’s so happy he’s there. Like Jared is the first person Jensen’s brought home since kindergarten. Makes Jared feel like a complete fucking tool.

He glances over at Jensen but he’s busy eating, eyes on the plate. He looks tense. His t-shirt is bunched up between his shoulders and he chews like he’s eating rubber, all tight-jawed and frowning.

Jared offers to help clean the table but Donna tells him not to be silly.

“You boys go out, enjoy the nice weather. I bet you have lots to talk about.” She smiles all-knowingly, then adds, “You’re staying the night. No sense driving back this late.”

Jared opens his mouth, not sure how to respond – he hadn’t really thought that far – but before he can say anything Jensen says, “He’s staying, mama. Don’t worry.”

Then they’re out on the porch again, beers in hand and unsaid words hovering in the air between them. Jared sips his beer, staring out over the yard. It’s pretty big, the grass dry like sand.

“I can go to a motel,” he finally says and Jensen looks over at him sharply. “I mean, I didn’t expect to–”

“Don’t be stupid,” Jensen cuts in. He sounds angry. “Never bothered you before.”

Jared flinches. He doesn’t know if Jensen means the last time he was here or before… before things went bad. “Yeah, well…” He tries for a smile. “Probably should have let you know I was coming is all I meant.”

Jensen just shakes his head, still looking irritated. He puts his beer aside and then turns to Jared, a strange expression on his face.

“I missed you, man,” he says and Jared knows he’s not talking about the last few weeks but months and months where Jared was right there and he might as well have been miles away. “I just…” Jensen looks away and sighs, shaking his head a little. “You know.”

“Yeah.” They’re standing so close he can feel Jensen’s breath on his arm. It’s making the hairs stand up like wild grass. “I’m sorry.”

Jensen waves it away, still not looking up. “Wasn’t just you,” he says. “Takes two and all that.”

“I got scared,” Jared admits, the words slipping out before he has time to think them over.

Jensen looks up at that, blinking slowly. “Of what?” he finally asks. He sounds guarded, like he’s not sure he wants to know.

Jared swallows. “Us. Me, you… This. What we have.”

Jensen stares at him, face blank. A car drives down the street, a dog barks somewhere in the distance. There’s some sitcom playing on TV inside the house, Jared can hear Jensen’s mother joining in on the canned laughter. He can still smell the smoke from the grill on Jensen’s hair. It smells like Texas and sun and home.

“It’s like band-aids,” Jared says, feeling stupid. “Everyone says you should just rip’em off, you know. Get it over with. But truth is, it hurts. Like hell. And I think… I think maybe that’s why… you know.” He shrugs, feeling ten kinds of awkward.

Jensen blinks. He licks his lips. Frowns.

Jared looks away. Shit.

“Dude, if that’s supposed to be a metaphor for something?” Jensen finally says. “I’m not getting it.”

Jared takes a deep breath. He’s had three hours to think over everything that’s apparently been going on inside his head for all these months without him even realizing and still he can’t find the words to say it without sounding like a twelve year old girl with abandonment issues.

“I didn’t think we’d get renewed. Last spring. And it fucking scared me, man, thinking maybe that was it. Maybe we wouldn’t be making each other crazy twenty-four-seven for one more year. And then we did get renewed but I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Like what about next year? What when it’s over? What then?”

He looks up, feeling embarrassed and stupid, and it doesn’t help when he sees Jensen is smiling at him that same soft smile from before. The one that says ‘You’re a frigging idiot, Jared Padalecki’.

“Don’t. Don’t laugh at me,” Jared says. It comes out more hurt than he intended and Jensen’s smile instantly slips away.

“I wasn’t,” he says quickly. “Christ, Jared, no.” He drops his gaze, fingernail scratching at the label on his bottle. “I wasn’t,” he repeats, more quiet this time.

Jared waits but the silence stretches on. He finishes his beer but keeps the bottle in his hands, rolling it between his palms. He has no idea what Jensen is thinking. He’s just sitting there, still as a statue, the half-empty bottle resting against his thigh. It’s unnerving.

Finally Jared can’t stand it anymore. He makes a show of straightening his shoulders, as if he’s stretching tired muscles, then yawns, small enough to be discreet but still wide enough to be noticed. He shakes the bottle and sighs before starting to rise.

Jensen catches his wrist. His fingers are warm and a little damp where they press against Jared’s pulse. “Jared,” Jensen says. There’s an edge to his voice that Jared doesn’t recognize.

“I was just going to…” he starts, lamely waving the bottle, but Jensen glances up at him and the words get stuck in his throat. “What?”

Jensen holds his gaze then suddenly drops it along with the grip in Jared’s wrist. “Grab me one while you’re at it,” he says. His voice sounds a little rough.

Jared hesitates. He wasn’t really on the prowl for another beer, plus it feels weird raiding Jensen’s parents’ fridge for booze. But Jensen doesn’t look up, just keeps gazing out into the dark. Jared nods and slips into the house. It’s quiet now. He wonders if everyone else has gone to bed already. He doesn’t even know what time it is.

When he comes back out Jensen is sitting with his head in his hands, the bottle empty by his side. He startles when the porch door closes, sitting up straight and rubbing a hand over his face.

“Headache?” Jared asks in a low voice.

Jensen doesn’t answer but when Jared hands him his beer the eyes that meet his reflect the porch light with a bit more shimmer than they should.

“Tired,” Jensen says. It sounds like the truth, just not the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.

“It’s late. Everyone else has gone to bed, I think,” Jared tells him, because it’s the only safe topic he can think of. “Maybe we should...”

“Maybe,” Jensen says but he doesn’t move.

Jared doesn’t know what to add to that so he just sits down again. They sit in silence, side by side, staring into the now pitch black darkness. They don’t touch their beers.

“It’s just…” Jensen finally says. His voice sounds like gravel and he clears his throat. “You know.”

Jared looks at him. Repeating ‘Yeah’ would be so easy. With a shrug and a smile and pretending they’re not having a whole other conversation in every word they’re not saying. Then bid each other goodnight and go to bed and tomorrow it will all be smiles and laughs, like nothing ever happened.

He says, “No, I don’t. Tell me.”

Jensen stares ahead. His eyes blink so slowly Jared imagines he can hear the doelike eyelashes, sweeping the air.

When Jensen suddenly moves it’s so simple, so _inevitable_ , that Jared isn’t even startled. He accepts the kiss like he’s accepted everything about Jensen. Like he invited Jensen into his life three years ago. Invited him into his heart somewhere between then and now, no exact time given. His fingers are touching Jensen’s face before he realizes he’s moving, finding familiar planes in the dark, the soft lines by the corner of his eyes, the full curve of his lips. Jensen’s eyelashes brush his index finger, light like a fairy’s wing.

Jensen pulls back and for a moment they just sit there, foreheads touching, sharing air that tastes of Texas, steaks and cold beer.

“That,” Jensen says finally. His voice shakes. “It’s just, you know, _that_.”

Jared swallows. “Okay.”

Jensen breathes out a startled laugh. “Okay?”

Jared smiles. “Yeah. Okay.”

He kisses Jensen. It’s even better that way.

  


“Are you happy?” Sandy asks. It’s a Sunday, ten o’clock in the morning. She’s picking up the last of her stuff. It fits in a box too small to hold a heartbreak.

“I am,” Jared says. He pulls her in, hugs her small frame tight. “Thank you.”

“It would have happened anyway,” she says. “You and him, it was inevitable.”

He nods but he’s not sure. He can be monumentally stupid. There’s no guarantee he wouldn’t have screwed everything up. Even with the strike ending and the show getting its fourth season. It’s just the way he is.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, running his fingers through her hair. One last time.

“Yes,” she says and smiles. “Stop apologizing. It’s better this way. Besides, I think I always knew. From the moment I met him.”

‘Yeah,’ Jared thinks. ‘Me too.’

He waves goodbye as the taxi drives away then walks back into the house, closing the door quietly behind him. Jensen is still sleeping. He doesn’t even stir when Jared crawls back into bed.

  
fin


End file.
